Enemy Unknown
by BlackBox Inc
Summary: The aliens have arrived on earth and its up to the men and women of the XCom Project to combat them. Character submission are welcome, more information in Chapter One
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One  
****Down the Rabbit Hole**

_**Two possibilities exist:  
Either we are alone in the universe or we are not.  
Both possibilities are equally terrifying.  
-Arthur C. Clarke**_

Fredick Van Dam was German. He was member of a nation that had undergone numerous radical changes in past century. After their defeat in World War One, the League of Nation enacted harsh penalties upon them. The great depression that followed hit them harder than most but it wasn't until Hitler's rise to power did the term German be spoke with at least some level of respect. Either it was spoken of by allies or enemies, it did not matter. The industrial boom that swept the nation caused many to over look Hitler's insane plans for the future. People did not care for his savage conquest of Europe as long as their children did not go hungry when they went to sleep.

But once again, the good would not last. With their defeat once again the nation was divided by two foreign powers. From the west came the Allies, the industrial and cultural powerhouse of America and their stalwart ally England. From the east came the unstoppable juggernaught that was the Soviet Union. Both sides carved out their own slice of the pie, splitting Germany into the eastern Communist party and the western democracy.

When the Berlin wall came cascading down at the end of the Cold War, and the Communist Soviet Union along with it, Germany was finally able to once again take a step back and rebuild all that they had lost.

For a while things have been good. Businesses blossomed, money was spent, the technological boom that came in the mid-nineties introduced a level of comfort and ease that was seemingly unheard of. The military was also back shelling out one of the top tier special forces that rivaled many of the world's super powers.

There was drive in the hearts of the German peoples that would not be extinguished no matter the circumstance. Sure, no one was without tragedy and not everyone agreed with the military bases the United States had in the country but once again it was more or less overlooked due the fact that Germany had remained a country, despite the odds.

Fredrick was proud to call himself German. At the age of twenty two he would be the first to admit that he wasn't too engrossed in the lessons of the past. But as a German there were things you knew just by being German.

Some of them should and did cause a level of shame and regret. Hitler was brutal in his conquest of Europe. A few groups in particular, the Jews and Gypsies, were targeted specifically. Fredrick would not try to defend the actions of his ancestors. But what he could do was to act better because of them.

But his national pride overshadowed his shame. Not to deny that it wasn't there, but to be a member of a peoples that had risen up from the ashes three times and were still around to talk about it still pulled at the young man's heart strings. Germany would survive as long as its people wished it to.

But unknown to most of mankind, German or otherwise, there were forces that were moving against their spinning little blue-green marble with unknown cause. They watched as the parasite known as humanity spread outwards around the globe, erecting monuments to their triumphs and their victories against both each other and Mother Nature.

Unknown to humanity, plans were drawn up. Armies trained and outfitted themselves for war. Ships were constructed and weapons were loaded. Machines hummed a tune filled with hate and malice.

The invasion of earth was underway.

To the average everyday person, it looked nothing more than a meteor shower. Some even stopped everything to glance up at the celestial display in awe and wonder. But what was supposed to be a tranquil and peaceful event was anything but.

The meteors landed with alarming velocity upon the streets of Munich Germany. Some landed upon cars or in buildings. Some crashed directly into the middle of intersections causing traffic jams and pile ups that spread out in several directions. The ground shook with the primal force of an earthquake each time one landed. Fear spread in conjunction with the resulting fires, causing a level of panic that was nearly unheard of in modern times.

But when the ground finally stopped shaking and all that could be heard was the crackling of the fires and alarms from the various ruined vehicles the frightened and terrified people of Munich finally emerged from their hiding places.

To their utmost shock, lying in various parts of the city, were not the meteors that they had anticipated they would find in the smoking craters that were created when they fell from the sky. What they saw were objects, no taller than the average man yet for some reason hummed with a soft green glow of an operating machine.

It is discussed by many that man's dependence on machines and technology had soften up their basic animal instincts. Instincts they need when they were being hunted by their predators but were now unnecessary due to the fact that if you put enough bullets into something, eventually it was going to die.

That was the only reason Fredrick thought of as he witnessed people beginning to crowd around the green glowing objects. Curiosity was cancelling out all rational fear in every person watching as they slowly began to approach the unknown artifact.

Much to his own disappointment, Fredrick was one of them. Despite the fact that his heart was beating so fast and so loud that it was all he could hear and feel. He pushed his way towards the front of the crowd, hoping to get a better look.

Fredrick was not a large man by any means. Some have called him scrawny, others thin. His own mother had defended that he simply hadn't grown into his own body yet and soon he would be among those with the large arms, barrel chests and wash boards stomachs. But time was not Fredrick's side and due to that, he was unable to get very far before being pushed back.

But where Fredrick lacked in mass, he more than made up for in height. Standing at almost six feet, four inches, Fredrick was a full head taller than most people. It was a shame that he was a natural klutz and had what some people called two left feet. Otherwise he would have been a high basketball prospect.

With his advantageous height, Fredrick could see a part of the machine that had fallen from the sky. There was a warm green glow emanating from it and it was covered in a dull metallic grey. If it wasn't for its unknown origins in space, it would have been utterly unremarkable. Something you read about it the newspaper, commented on once, and allowed yourself to move on with the rest of the day.

Up ahead, Fredrick could see couple of police officers push forward, coming to a stop directly in front of the object. Fredrick could not hear what was discussed but by their expressions, the officers looked just as scared and confused as he was.

Fredrick thought of trying to get further ahead but stopped when one of the officers went forward to touch the object. The blonde public servant placed barley a finger on the thing when suddenly the soft green glow exploded out in all directions. A green fog erupted from it, shooting up into the atmosphere and covering almost the entire area around it. All those caught inside the radius found themselves coughing from lack of oxygen. Those closest however were on the ground, hands over their throats as they tried with all their might to breath.

That was more than enough to dissuade any amount of curiosity the onlookers possessed. No one wanted to stay a moment longer, more than willing to allow the proper authorities to handle the situation.

But no one made it more than three steps before… something… lashed out and grabbed hold of them. It looked like multiple tentacles were striking out in all directions, wrapping themselves around anyone they found, and dragging them back into the fog with the speed of a striking cobra snake.

Fredrick, using his long legs to his advantage, was one of the first to turn tail and run in the opposite direction. To his right and left, two others were caught by the green tentacles and he heard them scream for anyone to help as they were mercilessly dragged back the way they came.

Fredrick paid them no heed and continued to run. Up ahead he saw a car, its owner long gone, but was still in working order. The door was already ajar and from the sight of the rumbling exhaust pipe, they had left the keys in the ignition as well.

Like the countless stories of the light at the end of the tunnel, Fredrick found himself running with a new fervor. His objective was only ten meters away. With a smile coming to lips, and his heart ready to burst from his chest, Fredrick dashed for the car. He did not stop until he had reached the open door and allowed himself to take a breath in victory.

But it was a celebration that came too soon. Just as Fredrick was about to enter into the car and drive to freedom, he felt something cold, wet and slimy wrap itself around his left leg. Looking down, his eyes widened with fear as he gazed upon the same tentacle that had already claimed countless others.

Some unseen force began to pull and Fredrick tried with all his might to hold onto the car door. Soon he found himself completely vertical and suspended in mid-air. But sadly, Fredrick was not strong. He did not have large muscles, a barrel chest, nor a washboard stomach. He was skinny and weak, no thought had gone into his own body's well being. He was soft.

The tentacle gave one finally tug and Fredrick's hands slipped from his anchor and he felt as he was slowly dragged back into the fog. The last thing he saw before everything went black was a large craft as it began to blot out the heavens above.

One star at a time.

XxxxxX

Watching the entire affair through the eyes of a street CCTV camera was a shadowy and mysterious group of people. Each was seated around a large conference table made of oak and the color of hickory. The overhead lamps illuminated nothing save for the flat surface of the table and the hands and arms of those assembled. Each of the sleeves were either covered in some military decoration or some very expensive suit. Who ever these people are, they are without a doubt powerful, wealthy, and merciless.

No faces could be seen by any of the other members. The only clue as to what their identities were, were the assortment of national flags that were placed before every member save one. Assembled were representatives from the United States, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, England, France, Germany, Russia, China, Japan, India, Australia, Egypt, South Africa, and Nigeria. The final member bore no flag, no identity.

Sixteen out of the assembled seventeen watched the footage from Munich as it plays out its entirety. Each one watched devoid of emotion or any surprise. When the last person on the screen was dragged into the fog, the footage stopped. As one, they turned to the man seated at the head of the table.

Silence reigned supreme in the poorly illuminated room until finally one of them spoke.

"So, they've finally come," was the statement from a woman bearing the flag of India.

"Yes, but it could not have come at a worse time," answered a man represented by the Canadian flag.

"True, tensions are already high between the nations as it is," commented America.

"The global economy is in shambles," spoke Egypt.

"Natural resources are nearly spent," replied Argentina.

"How capable are we in responding to this threat?" asked England.

"Poorly," was the curt response from Australia, "there is only so much we can do in the way of prevention before we have to deal with an all out panic."

"We do have one option," said a deep voice that was filled with neither fear nor concern.

"We can activate the XCom project," he finished.

The room burst with activity at the announcement, each member having no less than six opinions on why that was such a terrible idea. With the simple act of holding up his hand the man silenced the entire room. When the level of silence was to his own level of acceptance, he picked out a single member and gave them permission to speak.

"Sir, the XCom project is still in its infancy. From what little we know we need an entire global effort to even remotely standing a chance," said the Nigerian member.

"Nigeria speaks the truth," commented Japan, "With wars erupting in the middle east, natural resources becoming scarcer by the day and with the global economy on its last legs, the last thing we need to do is put all our resources into something that we don't know will even work."

"Japan is correct," rallied China, "Even if we were to pool our resources, we have no one that would be able to take charge. The man we have there now, Henry Bradford, is little more than a blabbering fool."

"He would sooner lead us to ruin than victory," observed France.

"On that we can all agree," voiced Germany, "If, and I say if, the XCom project were to go ahead as you suggest, we need someone there who is at least moderately competent at giving us victory, with little to no resources and can face down this threat without wetting their pants."

"There is no one that we know of that can achieve what we need," spoke South Africa.

"There is one," voiced the enigma of a man at the head of the table, "I believe America knows him quite well."

The American member waved his hand dismissively, "Absolutely not. I know of whom you speak Councilor and in my honest opinion he's a maverick at best. Slept with every star eyed female officer this side of the equator and is known only for his loose play with military law. He's got more negative citations than there are members of the Canadian military. He's a loose cannon and barley tolerable at best."

"Such a person would be disastrous towards our efforts," Mexico commented, "We need someone we can control."

"Someone that can further our own agendas," agreed Russia

"You forget Councilors," said the man with conviction, "that the man we speak of fits everything that you said needed to be filled. He has the experience, he has the intelligence, and when push comes to shove he's the type of person that won't run away."

Silence once again filled the air. Each members of the council looked at each other for support. Each one waited for another name to be voiced so they would not have to place all their chips on a man that presented almost as many unknowns as their own leader. But when none were brought forth, each let out a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, if we are going to do this than it must be said for the record that should he act untoward towards this council or to this threat, than America will no longer recognize the sovereignty of the Council of Nations," said America will conviction.

"As I've stated before," replied the man with his voice as calm as it was before, "any member of this council may back out at any time and not face any repercussions for it. But it will be known that should you back out, your nation will face this threat alone and will receive no aid. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," replied America through gritted teeth.

"Very well then," the man said and pulled a phone from his pocket. A few subtle chimes were heard as he keyed in a three digit number. The other line rang for a few moments until finally the receiver picked up.

"This is the council. Send a team to New York and Retrieve Colonel Andrews immediately."

There was a pause as the other line answered in the affirmative.

"And inform Bradford… the XCom Project is hereby activated."

_**Thank you for tuning in, I appreciate you taking the time to stop by. As I said in the summary, I will be taking character submissions. I'll get to the criteria in a moment but I want to make a few things noted before we continue.**_

_**Unfortunately I am already tied up with three other projects currently. As such I will not be updating this for a while. This should give you all plenty of time to think about what kind of soldier you are going to submit. Also this will be based on the newer version of XCom while at the same time adding things they forgot to bring back from the original.**_

_**That said, to submit your character I will need: Name, Age, Nationality, Class, Weapons, Appearance, personality, Background (former military, volunteer etc…) and **_**AN IN DEPTH**_** history of said character. If you submit a character that gives me nothing to work with, said character will be considered cannon fodder. There are exceptions to this rule but try to avoid it at all costs.**_

_**Name, Age, and Nationality are pretty straight forward. Classes and Weapons however will be different that what you remember. There will be no direct mention of a characters class in the story however it will assist me as the writer to figure out how to use the character to their fullest. Same goes for the weapons. If your guy is a sniper but want him to wield a shotgun as well, go for it. Items are not going to be limited either so expect everyone to be able to have grenades and med-packs (more on that later).**_

_**Also if you want to submit pilots, scientists, engineers or any of the non mentioned roles that I haven't thought of but you have feel free to do so. I have a giant base to fill so I'm going to need personnel.**_

_**Also I should point out that this will be a war. People and soldiers die in war. I already have a long list of Red-Shirts as a back up but don't expect your character to survive based on their good looks. No one is safe.**_

_**So go on then and give me some soldiers to work with by either posting in the review section or PMing me. The aliens are upon us and we need humanity's best to survive it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Prologue Two  
****Interesting Times**

_Thank you for all those who submitted a character. It means a lot that you'd go out of your way to do that and it helps me greatly. I mean, I'm good at character building but to make the amount of characters I need… like I said, I'm good but not that good.  
I know I said that this wasn't going to get updated for a while but I seem to be drawing blanks on my other projects. I hate writers block with a passion. So to pass the time I give you the second prologue. Enjoy.  
XCom and all associated properties belong to Firaxis and 2K._

Central Intelligence Officer Henry Bradford stood at the edge of a large holographic display of planet Earth inside the Mission Control of the XCom Headquarters based in an undisclosed location somewhere in Europe. Most of the planet was covered in a soft blue glow although there were several 'spots' that were orange instead. One of those orange spots was Munich. Ground Zero.

Despite his own wishes, Bradford was not the commander of the XCom Project. That role was going to someone else entirely. No, Bradford himself was simply the lead Intelligence Officer, the head of nearly sixteen other officers. Each of them were all situated behind several monitors in a tight circumference around the holographic projection. Each one monitored the status of the Council nations and the other various nations around the globe.

Bradford turned from the display to a completely separate monitor, this one showing him the CCTV footage of the Munich abductions. He watched intently as people were dragged slowly and efficiently into the fog. For what purpose, he had no idea. But it was his job to find out.

The sound of his personal communicator drove his attention to the device attached to his arm.

"Go for Bradford," he answered.

"Sir, the Council wishes to speak with you in the situation room," came the reply.

"I'm on my way."

Bradford turned from the monitor and strode out of the room altogether into the hallways of the Headquarters. As of right now there were only three levels of the underground base, the first two devoted to the bare essentials; Mission control, the Situation Room, the barracks, and the Hanger. The second floor below was devoted to the various Research Labs while the third below that was for the engineering level, housing the bases factories and power generators.

Bradford made his way down the dull grey colored hallway before coming to the situation room. The room was empty save for a couple of construction drones and the giant monitor that showed the same display of Earth as his own in Mission Control but this one being in 2D rather than 3D.

Bradford walked up to the only interface in the entire room and placed his hand upon the palm reader. A scanner flew over the underside of his palm before flashing green. A second security measure popped out then, this one an eye scanner. Bradford played along, putting his right eye up to the interface. Once again, another bright light, until that too flashed green.

The large monitor was covered in static for a second before a man appeared on it. Any chance at identification was lost due to man being thrown completely into shadow by the placement of the light fixture behind him. All Bradford could see was the outline of the man and nothing else.

While personal identification was impossible, Bradford knew exactly who this was but by title only. He was the Chairman of the Council of Nations, the most secretive yet powerful organization on the planet. Every nation had a member on the council yet only the most powerful held a seat on the inner council. It was those few sixteen that called the shots. Every one else was a pawn, Bradford included.

"Central Intelligence Officer Bradford reporting as ordered sir," Bradford said as he stood at attention.

"Greetings, Officer Bradford. I needn't tell how monumental this day is do I?" said the Chairman, his voice sending a chill down Bradford's spine.

"Sir," agreed Bradford with a nod of his head.

"As you are no doubt aware, we have an unidentified crash landing in Munich. I want a team ready to go investigate with the hour. With the XCom Project finally up and running, we will now have the means to combat this threat. Our days of hiding are over."

"Sir…" Bradford choked out but stopped at the last second.

The Chairman noticed Bradford's hesitation, "Speak freely."

Gathering his courage, Bradford spoke, "Sir, do you think it is wise taking such a direct stance. I mean, in the past, our greatest weapon was secrecy. If we make ourselves known we might draw… unwanted attention."

"I understand your concerns, but they are baseless. The XCom project is online and we will combat this threat. The nations know that their petty squabbling will only lead to their downfall. As much as they hate and fear each other, the threat of losing their power scares them more. We will use that and by the end they will see the light."

"I… I understand sir."

The Chairman nodded, "Good. You have your orders. I suggest you carry them out with all haste."

With that, the screen delved into static once more before returning to the main screen and Bradford let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Turning on his heel he made his way back to Mission Control.

Upon arriving, he was surprised to see two new additions to the clutter. One was a comely brunette dressed in a sterile white lab coat. The other, an elderly gentleman of Asian decent, a pair of worn reading glasses balanced precariously on his sharp nose.

Bradford strode up to both of them, greeting the woman first.

"Doctor Vahlen, thank you for coming," he greeted shaking the Austrian woman's hand before turning to his other guest, "and you must be Doctor Shen."

"I am glad to be here," Shen said returning the greeting, "Although I would like to get to work as soon as possible."

Bradford shook his head, "while I appreciate the enthusiasm doctor, the engineering deck is still under construction. In the mean time I invite you to head down there to observe the building process and familiarize yourself with our systems."

Shen smiled although it was more forced than anything. After all, being a genius of world renown, the last thing an engineer of Shen's status would want to be doing was nothing.

"Of course, but before we get into that, perhaps you can tell the both of us why we are here exactly."

Bradford's confusion was apparent on his face, "you mean… you don't know?"

This time is Vahlen who spoke, "Unfortunately we weren't told much. We were simply ordered to drop everything and come here. Although at the time we weren't sure exactly where we were going."

Bradford sighed, "Private Vosk."

A young man dressed in fatigues appeared seconds later.

"Sir, Private Vosk reporting as ordered Sir."

"Private, I need you to escort both Dr. Vahlen and Dr. Shen to their rooms in the barracks. After that you are to escort them to the situation room for a briefing. Is that understood?"

The young man saluted and led the two scientists out into the hallway. Bradford watched them go with an almost tried expression on his face. With out any further delay he regained his confidence and walked up to the main display.

"I want Bravo team outfitted and ready to go to Munich in five minutes. In ten I want their asses on the Skyranger 'Big Sky' for deployment. I want Alpha and Charlie teams to lock and load and be ready in case things go south. And will someone get me a time frame as to when our Commanding Officer arrives. And this needs to get done thirty seconds ago. Let's move people!"

Each of the intelligence officers instantly snapped to, sending out their orders.

XxxxxX

Sergeant Manny Garcia looked on as his team readied themselves. Since Bravo Squad was just a fire team, there were only three others in the group besides himself. Readying her M4 assault rifle was the Japanese native Yoko Hayashi. Next to her, slowly loading shells in his 12 gauge shotgun was the American Christian Arnold. The final member, the Russian Jorgen Bogdanov, was placing several grenades, both fragmentation and flash, onto his belt as his MP5 submachine gun dangled loosely around his neck.

Manny himself was already armed and ready. Cradled in the dark skinned Puerto Rican's arms was the belt fed M240 Heavy machine gun. On his leg was his personal .44 Magnum along with a few blocks of C4. He turned his head at the sound of someone approaching and smiled at the sight of Alpha's leader, Sergeant Thomas Avery. Avery himself was outfitted with a standard M16 Assault Rifle, although his wore a suppressor at the end.

"Looks like you're getting the rookies this time," the Canadian chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're a regular old comedian aren't you?"

"What can I say it's a gift," Avery said although his smile faltering, "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Manny shook his head, "I though you might know."

"I have no idea old friend. I asked Clarissa but she's just as in the dark as we are."

Manny gripped his friend's shoulder, "Just watch you ass. Keep your head down and trust your instincts. We'll make it through this just like before."

Despite his words, Manny could see that Avery was still shaken up.

"Yeah, I hear you man. It's just that I got a bad feeling on this."

"_**All team report to designated Skyrangers for deployment! All teams report to designated Skyrangers for deployment!"**_ the announcement rang out over the base wide PA system.

"Here we go," commented Manny, "Good luck brother."

"You too. And when we get back, I want a rematch on that marksmanship competition."

Manny smiled, "your money is as good as mine Canuck."

Manny turned and began following his team out of the armory and in the adjacent hanger where three Skyrangers were park, their engines idly humming away.

Manny quickly adopted his helm and placing it upon his head. The helmet's HUD quickly powering up. His fellow members of Bravo were highlighted in a soft blue color. The members of Alpha and Charlie outlined in green. A holographic arrow appeared over the left most Skyranger, its codename _Big Sky_ highlighted underneath it.

"Let's go, move!" Manny ordered as his team filed into the craft.

In the next thirty seconds, all Skyrangers were airborne and heading towards their objective with sound breaking speed.

XxxxxX

The interior of the Skyranger was silent as each member of Bravo prepared themselves in their own way. Many himself was fidgeting in his seat, his thumb idly playing with the rosary entangled around his fingers.

It wasn't long before the pilot informed them that they were now in German airspace. As if on cue, Bradford's image appeared on each one of their Head's Up Displays.

"_Listen up soldiers. You're being deployed to Germany. At 1900 hours Zulu several unidentified objects fell on various parts of Munich. After ruling out the possibility of a downed satellite we now believe these objects to be… extraterrestrial in nature_."

That revelation came with a few startled gasps and several hushed conversations. All died down as Bradford continued his briefing.

"_Shortly after impact, German officials received reports of mass hysteria and freak weather around the impact zones. Then things went dark. At 2100 hours a chopper carrying a German military recon team went down in the area after reported being fired upon. Our mission is to assess the situation on the ground, ascertain the condition of the German recon team and investigate the extraterrestrial objects. Operation Devil's Moon is a go. Central out._"

Bradford's image disappeared after that plunging the interior back in silence. Sparing a glance at his team, many could see that each one wasn't expecting this new revelation. Aliens? No one could have foreseen that. Not even him. But it was his job to bring his team home in one piece and Manny was determined to do that.

"Listen up!" Manny called out, standing up and gaining the attention of each member of his squad.

"I don't care if it's terrorist, little green men, or demon spawn ready to bring forth the second coming. We have a mission to carry out and by god we're going to do just that. You all heard Bradford. Our objectives are to locate the German Recon team, investigate whatever crashed down there, and figure out what the hell is going on. You are all here because you are the best of the best. Now let's do our jobs and go home."

Bolstered by their leader's words, each member stood as one and awaited the Skyranger to touch down.

"_Coming over the target site now_," said the pilot.

Manny opened a comm. channel, "do you have eyes on the crash site Big Sky?"

"_Roger that sir, looks like the Germans went down hard_."

"Any sign of the team?"

"_Negative sir, but I'm getting strange readings. Like really strange. I've never seen anything like it_."

"Copy that Big Sky, set us down. Tell Alpha and Charlie to get ready just in case."

"Aye sir, touchdown down in one mike over."

Almost a minute on the dot and Manny felt the Skyranger hit the ground. Seconds later and the ramp opened up. The first thing that greeted the Puerto Rican veteran was the sight of pure carnage. The German helicopter that went down was within sight as it slowly burned. All street lights were out and the only illumination was from the various fires that had yet to be put out.

"This is Bravo-One, we're groundside, how copy?"

Bradford's voice rang in Manny's earpiece, "_This is central, what do you got Bravo-One_?"

"A lot of damage sir. But nothing as of now to point out a cause. I'll inform you of the situation as it develops. Bravo-One out."

Manny turned to his team and quickly ordered them forward. There was absolutely no noise on the street either. It was deathly quiet.

"Arnold, you have point. Bogdanov, you take the rear. Hayashi, keep you eyes open for the German recon team. Let's double time it, move out."

As one, Bravo began to head down the street. Yet the entire area felt completely lifeless. That alarmed Manny the most. There were absolutely no people. No civilians, no German military. It was if there was nobody here to begin with. There were a few cars littered about, some with their doors completely ajar, others on their sides as if they were simply tossed aside. Some were simply smoldering wrecks, the fires burning away at them with little opposition.

"Sir!"

Manny turned to see Arnold bent over something. Manny rushed to his side and was handed a bullet casing.

"Its 5.56 sir. Standard in German military armaments. Looks like a fight went down."

Manny nodded and pocketed the brass, "I agree but where are they now?"

"I think I have an idea sir," came Bogdanov's reply.

Manny turned to see the Russian soldier a few paces ahead, standing before some bus terminal.

"What have you got Bogdanov?"

Jorgen simply pointed and when Manny saw what he was pointing to, he did his best not to throw up.

A soldier lay inside of the terminal, the flag patch on his arm clearly identifying him as a member of the German Recon team. But what had Manny fighting to keep his breakfast in his stomach was the fact that the body was maimed beyond recognition. It looked as if something had wormed it way out of the man's chest cavity and tore up the man's insides as well.

"_Madre de dios_," Manny cursed, "what could have done this?"

"No idea sir, but the trail leads to that building over there," Bogdanov said pointing to a large brick structure.

"Then that's where we're going. Hayashi, get on the horn and inform Bradford of our progress."

"Yes sir," answered the Japanese woman.

"Bogdanov, take point," Manny ordered as he and Arnold formed up together.

It didn't take long for the three of them to reach the building. Looking up Manny could see that something had crashed right through the top half of the building and had penetrated deep inside.

"Whoa, check this out man," exclaimed Arnold. Manny looked over and saw that the American was hunched over the alleged craft that had earlier plummeted from the sky.

"What have you got Arnold?"

"I don't know sir, but its no satellite."

"Leave it for now. We'll do a proper reading once we've secured the area," Manny said as Hayashi returned, "What news from Central?"

"Bradford says to proceed as planned but wants us to exercise extreme caution."

"Roger that. Bogdanov, Arnold, stack up. Flash Grenades through the windows then we breach and clear, understood?"

"Hoorah," answered Arnold.

"On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!"

On cue, Bogdanov tossed in two flash grenades through the adjacent windows, the breaking of the glass echoing down the empty street. There was a loud popping sound from the buildings interior which gave Arnold the signal to kick down the door. He stepped to the side to allow Manny and Yoko to rush in, weapons at the ready.

But what greeted them was anything but hostile. What greeted them was simply an empty factory floor, almost as dark as the street outside. The only thing that Manny saw was a man, standing just outside the radius of a low hanging lamp.

"Help…me…" the man groaned out. It was originally spoken in German but Manny's audio filters in his helmet translated it on a dime.

Manny glanced around at his surroundings, pointing out the useable cover and obvious flanking routes. He turned back to his team as they all filed in.

"Hayashi, take the right side, Bogdanov the left. I'll go up the middle. Arnold you contact our survivor."

Each member move silently as they approached. As he drew nearer, Arnold straightened himself up and raised his free hand in a placating gesture.

"Hey man, are you alright? We're here to help."

Arnold grew nervous as he saw that the survivor was holding a shotgun in one hand and a grenade in the other. Arnold's grip on his own shotgun tightened as he drew nearer.

"Buddy, can you hear me?" Arnold said once again as he tried to get through to the man. The survivor ceased calling out and remained silent as Arnold approached. The American finally stopped once he came within arms reach.

"We're here to-"

But the words died in his throat. At this distance Arnold could see the man's features clearly. What he saw made him fumble for his words.

The survivor's eyes were alit with a purple glow. The irises pulled towards the back of the man's head. Blood was flowing down from the corners of both eye sockets, through both nostrils and out both ears. To get a better look, Arnold grasped the lamp and shined it upon the crazed looking German survivor.

As he looked upon the man's face, Manny called out.

"What's the skinny Arnold?"

"I have no idea Sarge but this guy must be in shock or something I can't get through to him. Maybe if I-"

Arnold stopped when he saw something move behind the survivor. With the area still in darkness, Arnold moved the light head so it was facing the unknown area. What he saw mystified him. But before he could announce it to his team, he heard the sound of thunder and felt something slam into his exposed stomach. He fell right onto his back. As the darkness slowly claimed him, the last thing Christian Arnold saw was the smoking barrel of the survivor's shotgun.

Manny watched in horror as the survivor emptied a shell into Arnold's exposed midriff. To add insult to injury, the soldier then dropped his shotgun, pulled the pin from his grenade and then set it off.

The explosion engulfed both the survivor and Arnold as pieces of debris, blood and meat were sent flying in all directions.

With their trap sprung, a group of seven hostiles descended upon Manny and his team. To Manny they looked almost humanoid. They were the size of a small child, with large heads, all black almond shaped eyes, pale grey skin and wore absolutely no armor. In their hands they held what could only be defined as weapons. They looked like handheld bricks, glowing a soft yet clearly hostile green.

Manny's examination was halted when one of the hostile fired right at him. Letting his instincts take over, Manny fell flat on his face, allowing the glowing green orbs to fly harmlessly over him.

Gritting his teeth in both fear and anger, Manny rose and brandished his M240. The sound of clattering thunder echoed in the small confined factory as Manny sent nearly a hundred and fifty rounds down range. To his own amazement, the creatures were simply dodging his fire, almost as if they could read his thoughts. Yet Manny knew that was absurd and continued to lay down fire.

"Fall back, we're too exposed here! Fall back!"

Dutifully, Bogdanov and Hayashi were making their way towards the entrance. Once they cleared the threshold however, Hayashi went down screaming.

Bogdanov had no clue where the shot came from. All he saw was Hayashi sprinting one moment, and the next some green orb like projectile hit her square in the chest. Guessing where the assailant might be, Bogdanov raised his Mp5 and unloaded the entire clip.

To answer for his transgressions, a wave of more green orbs came flying at him. Most missed but a few hit, nailing him in the arm and singing his shoulder pad.

"I'm hit!"

Manny quickly emptied what was left in his current belt and slung the now empty weapon over his shoulder. Brandishing his .44 he sent two hostiles to early graves and turned tail. He was at Bogdanov side in moments. Hostile fire was coming in from nearly every direction and nearly every building along the street. Acting on impulse, Manny grabbed Jorgen by his collar and began to pull him towards the safety of cover.

"This is Bravo-One. We need back up on location! We got hostiles, presumed platoon strength! Bravo-Two and Bravo-Four are down! We need back up!"

Manny shut down the comm. as he heard the confirmation from both Alpha and Charlie leaders. Turning his attention back to fight, Manny emptied what was left in his six shooter and dropped it to the ground. Bogdanov, using his one good arm, reloaded his SMG and balanced the weapon on the edge of their cover. As he fired, Manny reloaded his light machine gun, his hands almost a blur as he worked.

All either of them could do was pray that they could hold out until Alpha and Charlie arrived.

XxxxxX

The quiet street of Munich had turned into a warzone. From what Avery could see on his holographic display, two members of Bravo were already down. Although it was a selfish thought, Avery thanked whatever gods were watching that Manny was alright.

"_This is Bravo-One. We need back up on location! We got hostiles, presumed platoon strength! Bravo-Two and Bravo-Four are down! We need back up!"_

Avery nodded to himself and opened a comms channel to Central.

"Central this is Alpha-One, requesting permission to assist on site."

"_Confirmation granted Alpha-One. Get in there and assist. I'm working right now to get some help from the German authorities. But as it stands, you're on your own_."

"Rodger that Central, Alpha-One out."

Avery looked back at his team, "Alright boys lets get in there and show 'em how this is done!"

Each member loaded their weapons and prepared themselves as their Skyranger headed towards the contact site. Almost instantly their craft shook as it was peppered with enemy fire.

"We got a hot LZ boys. We wont be able to touchdown," informed the pilot."

"Copy that, just get us there," answered Avery.

Within thirty seconds, the Skyranger opened its rear ramp and Avery was instantly met with a swarm of hostile fire.

"Go, go, go!"

Although Avery was the first out, he was lucky by comparison. One of his men that was standing right beside him took hit to the face and went down instantly. Avery, no stranger to combat, ignored it for now and charged to the nearest available cover. Behind him, the surviving members of Alpha found cover as well and began to take the heat off of Manny and Bogdanov.

"Where the hell are you Charlie?" Avery screamed into his mic.

"_Coming in now_," answered Charlie's leader Clarissa Schwartz.

Satisfied that reinforcements were inbound, Avery began to advance, his rifle spitting out lead in accurate three round bursts. During the fight, Avery saw one of the grey colored hostiles, point a large bulky weapon towards the sky. The sight was almost comical, the weapon a great deal larger than its owner, yet that soon turned to horror once it spat out a large green bolt of energy at Charlie's Skyranger.

The shot hit right on the nose of the Skyranger, causing the craft to begin spiraling out of control.

"_This is Hawk Eye, mayday! Mayday! Controls aren't responding! We're going down_!"

The Skyranger completed its decent and slammed into a nearby building. Within milliseconds, it blew into a large ball of flame that consumed the entire craft. There was no way that any one survived.

Cursing to himself, Avery turned back to the fight and disposed of two grays that were trying to flank Manny and Bogdanov's position. The enemy, finally realizing that Avery and his team were a threat as well, turned most of their fire towards him, causing the Canadian to duck behind cover.

"Central, where is our Godamn reinforcements! We're out numbered here!"

"_German authorities say they need fifteen minutes to get there. Just hold on Alpha_."

"In fifteen minutes this entire street will be a graveyard!"

Almost like the will of god himself, several explosions dotted the enemy's positions. A dark mass then flew over the war torn street.

"_This is Big Sky, we got your backs. Just hold on boys_!"

Big Sky brought his Skyranger around for another pass, blanketing the opposition with his chain gun. Scores of enemies were felled with that pass and to add insult to injury, Big Sky let loose with his final two rockets, engulfing the flanking building in explosions.

With the enemy numbers thinned, the human soldiers found an opening and began to push further on. The enemy wasn't by any means defeated but their backs certainly had been broken.

"Sarge heads up!"

Avery glanced back and saw another group of the small gray aliens charging from another building further down the street. Avery opened fire and felled two before having to duck back into cover again. His teammate that alerted him wasn't so lucky, receiving several shots to his torso and causing him to fall flat.

Several explosion rocket Big Sky as the aliens tried to bring down the human death machine. While it was certainly armored, no craft could take that kind of punishment. Big Sky suddenly found his left engine exploding, causing his craft to spiral down and crash into the street below.

Avery grabbed his last surviving teammate and charged forth to the crash site. Thankfully, Big Sky was alive but he was seemingly unconscious.

"Get him out, I'll cover you!"

As Alpha-Three, desperately tired to get Big Sky free, Avery continued to assault the enemy with accurate bursts from his rifle. Suddenly a sharp burning pain erupted from his chest. Glancing down he saw that whatever had hit him, tore clean through his armor and burned the sensitive flesh underneath.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Avery did his best to ignore the pain and continued to fire. That was until another shot slammed into his knee and another hit him in the stomach.

With his vision beginning to fade, Avery fell to his knees, no longer caring for the battle around him. That was when he saw a purple-green object bounce with inches of him and his teammate. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that it was a grenade. With his teammate's attention away from the offending object, and with no breath in lungs to call out a warning, Avery Thomas did the only thing he could think of.

Using what little strength he had, he shifted his body weight and landed firmly on the grenade. Thankfully, Avery was dead before it went off.

XxxxxX

Manny knew that his time was running out. Already, he saw the life signs on most of Alpha and all of Charlie had gone dark. Avery was dead as well, but Manny knew he had no time to mourn.

A shout from behind him made him turn to see Bogdanov get hit in the neck. The Russian fell backwards and Manny could see that the flesh where the round hit was almost completely burned away. There was some life left in Bogdanov's eyes however. With one hand he fired away with his magnum while using the other to try and plug up his teammates wound. But it was a vain effort and Bogdanov passed within seconds.

Cursing, Manny aimed and fired, killing another of the gray aliens. Then he felt a something impact his shoulder blade and felt a searing hot pain engulf his back. He knew he was shot but Manny was stubborn and turned to confront the threat. He saw two more aliens charging at him, weapons already blazing away. Manny ignored the incoming projectiles and fired the last three rounds in his pistol. Luckily it was only two that he needed, the third just being the icing on the cake.

With the direct threat eliminated, Manny scooped up Bogdanov's MP5 and resumed to fight. In the corner of his eye he saw the last member of Alpha flat line as the enemy over whelmed the soldier's position. Big Sky lasted another 1.732 seconds until he too flat lined.

_Alien, two o'clock, fire. Dead alien. Alien at twelve o'clock high, fire. Dead alien. Reload. Alien at one o'clock, fire. Dead alien._

Manny snapped from target to target, not letting his opposition to get a single clear shot on him unless they wanted to taste what high velocity lead was like. He was so into the fight it took him a moment to realize that he was firing at the alien's backs.

They were retreating.

Manny was almost mystified when the warzone had become quiet once more. Only this time the street was littered with dead humans and aliens alike. Shell casing littered the ground next to the damaged alien blasters. Red blood intermingled with the alien's green.

"Central… this is Bravo-One. Requesting evac," Manny said with a defeated tone.

"_Roger that Bravo-One. German authorities are five minutes away. Alpha's Skyranger is two minutes out. Let's get you home_," replied Bradford

For many, the firefight on the seemingly nameless street of Munich, Germany was the opening shots of the invasion. Humanity for the first time now had undeniable proof of the existence of life not of their own world. Yet not one of them knew if that was a good fact or a bad one.

Either way, humanity was at war.

_**A/N:  
As you can see I wont be telling a story that reflects the game. The game itself is good but turn based strategy is nothing like real life. Also, one problem I had was choosing between situations to respond to. From a game standpoint it makes sense, giving the player a sense of dread as they choose who to save and who to write off. But in real life? You can have around 99 soldiers in your arsenal but can only use one transport to get from A to B. That makes no sense and hopefully I can do a good job translating from Game to Novel… or whatever.  
Just one more prologue chapter and those character submissions will appear. Not all at the same time but they'll appear.  
So, thoughts?**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Prologue Three  
****A Fair Deal**

_**A/N:  
Thank you all once again for tuning in and a special thanks to those who have submitted a character. Please, keep them coming. I am accepting whoever or whatever you send me. There is no limit to the amount I am taking so, let those creative engines purr.  
**_**XCom: Enemy Unknown and all associated properties belong to Firaxis and 2k Games.**

The interior of the Mark IV Skyranger was dark and empty save for a single soldier reclined in one of the many available seats. He was dressed in a simple leather jacket and a pair of loose fitting jeans over a pair of all black combat boots. Naturally he had a side arm but it tucked away and hidden from view.

Turbulence would cause the entire craft to shake for a moment before returning back to its almost stationary like state. But the soldier was ignored it as he silently tried to sleep, his all black beret pulled down over his eyes as to block out the all consuming red light before him. The man was lost as to the light's actual purpose but he assumed that it was some sort of ploy in order to keep soldiers trying to sleep awake.

Giving up on his attempt to sleep, the soldier audibly sighed, although it was lost over the sound of the Skyranger's engine and twin turbines. Fixing the beret properly, he stood and took a moment to balance himself before walking towards the cockpit.

When the soldier reached the cockpit, he was greeted with an all black sky and dark grey clouds. The Skyranger right now was flying above the cloud line as to avoid the nasty conditions of the ensuing storm that was currently plaguing the United States eastern seaboard.

The soldier brushed this away as he took up the co-pilot's chair and placed the free communications headset onto his own head. The soldier played around with the protruding microphone until he was satisfied with the placement.

"How long until we arrived," he asked the pilot.

The pilot glanced over at the soldier, as if acknowledging his arrival in the cockpit for the first time.

"We are about ten mikes out from New York sir," was the response.

Nodding to himself, the soldier crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. He was rather tired. Hell after the botched mission in Germany, most of the XCom staff was feeling rather down.

Six months ago he had only just returned to Hereford, the British SAS regimental headquarters in England, from a six month excursion in Libya when he received his reassignment papers, telling him to board a Skyranger and report to the XCom HQ. After the mission to Germany, he was told to head back to Hereford where he would board another Skyranger and take it to the Continental United States. Even though he was part of the XCom project, the soldier knew deep down he was still an Englishman at heart. More specifically, he was SAS.

A branch of the British Army, the SAS, or the Regiment, was formed in July 1941, during the height of the Second World War. The SAS first saw action in the North African Campaign and later in mainland Europe. Since then the British Special Air Services had influenced the formation of several Special Forces groups around the world including New Zealand, Australia, Rhodesia, and France. Even America adopted the SAS for themselves forming the Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol and the famed Delta Force.

Yet even with the weight of all that history, England knew that this new type of war couldn't be won by one single nation. It would take a coalition of untold proportions. That was why Captain Michael Wolfe found himself becoming a glorified errand boy.

It took another forty five minutes until the Skyranger began its inevitable decent towards the airport at the New York International Airport. With hundreds of people arriving almost daily, a single Skyranger wouldn't be all that noticeable. Something that Wolfe was grateful for.

It didn't take long for the front view port to be covered in rain, visual conditions being dropped to almost zero. Calmly, the pilot placed a set of thermal imaging goggles on and trusted the output of the numerous navigational equipment scattered around the cockpit.

When they finally came within a mile of the airport, the pilot gracefully switched channels and contacted the air control tower.

"This Skyranger Five-Six-November, requesting clearance to land," the pilot said over the radio.

The response came seconds later, "_this is Flight Control, you're an hour late Five-Six_."

The pilot chuckled, "Yeah, ran into a storm out over the Atlantic, had to take the long way around."

"_I hear ya Five-Six, weathers been crazy lately. It's got all the egg heads at the base in a frenzy. Anyway, is the VIP secured_?"

"Yeah, he's good. A little uptight, but good."

"_He's British, what do you expect_?"

The pilot glanced nervously at Wolfe who no doubt heard the comment. However he didn't answer or rebuke the comment in the slightest. He just continued to face forward and stare out the front window.

The pilot was easily intimated by the soldier next to him and rightly so. Wolfe had the stature that told those around him that he ate tanks for breakfast, shot terrorists by lunch, shat out nuts and bolts by dinner, and finally toasted to queen and country before bed. Not to mention that the pilot already learned, quickly that is, that Wolfe was not a patient man in the slightest. Nor did it look like he got out much either. Hell, he probably went to bed each night reading briefings and reports.

"Uh… yeah, sure… so are you going to tell me where I'm parking this thing?"

"_Just head to strip eleven. The welcoming party should be waiting_."

"Copy that control, ten-four."

With that, the pilot shut down the comm. and put the Skyranger into a neat and controlled decent. When the VTOL craft finally made touchdown, Wolfe didn't even wait for the pilot to shut down the systems. He stood and marched purposefully towards the rear ramp.

As the ramp descended, Wolfe instantly made out the three black suited individuals. Despite the torrential downpour, the three contacts stood at attention patiently. Behind them was a parked limousine yet Wolfe could not make out the occupants due to the black tinted windows. All in all, it felt less like a welcoming committee and more like an intimidation move.

_Goddamn yanks with their theatrics_…

Stoically, Wolfe departed the ramp and was instantly greeted by the tall suited individual in the middle.

"Captain Wolfe, welcome to the Untied States," the man greeted.

Wolfe shook his hand politely and allowed himself to be led into the limo. Crouching down as to not smack his head on the low hanging ceiling, Wolfe took the nearest available seat. The limo started up instantly and took off to whatever destination they were going to.

That was when he noticed the three obvious CIA agents flanking both sides of the petite woman directly across from him.

"Captain Wolfe, thank you for finally joining us," the woman said with a sharp tone of voice.

"My pleasure," Wolfe greeted back coolly as he unzipped his bulky damp coat, "but it seems you have me at a disadvantage. You know me yet I have no idea who you are."

The woman leaned forward, "what exactly were you told?"

Wolfe shrugged, "I was told to board a Skyranger and head to the Continental Untied States, New York to be specific. I was to meet a CIA contact who would then tell me why I just flew nearly 200 miles over the Atlantic. I'm going to go on a limb and say that it doesn't have to do with my smoldering good looks."

The woman did her best not to scowl, "I am Agent Jane Smith of the Central Intelligence Agency. Everything you need to know is in this folder," she said as she handed Wolfe a manila colored folder that was as thick as the armored plating that surrounded the outside of the limo they were driving in.

"Jane Smith," Wolfe repeated as he opened the folder, "that's cute."

The British national scanned the interior of the packet with inattentive eyes before tossing it to the seat next to him.

"Listen, we both would rather be doing something else right now so just cut to the chase," Wolfe remarked.

The agent drew herself up slightly in the clear breach of protocol but nevertheless humored him.

"As you are no doubt aware, several unidentified objects crashed inside of the city of Munich, Germany. Shortly after, XCom received the green light to send a team there to investigate. Only one soldier, out of twelve, returned. Two Skyrangers were also lost as well, both pilots confirmed KIA upon the arrival of the German military."

"Yes, I know all this. But why exactly am I here?"

The agent smiled, "XCom at this time is without a Commanding Officer. To be frank, you are here to locate and convince the only one suited up for the task."

Once again, Wolfe was handed another manila folder. While this one was not as thick as the previous, it was by no means thin either.

Opening the cover, Wolfe was greeted by the sight of a smiling gentleman's phot, wearing the standard United States Marine Corps fatigues. The name under the picture read: Colonel Jonathan S. Andrews.

Wolfe scowled as he commented, "This is why I am here. To help you do you own jobs?"

The agent shook her head, "the problem isn't locating the man, it is convincing him to join XCom. As it says in the file, Colonel Andrews was dismissed on the charge of taking a bribe from a very dangerous terrorist."

"From Mamet Kadaf… I know, I was part of the team that was sent to take the guy down."

A thought struck Wolfe at that moment.

"So you blokes think that my past with Andrews will be something that will seal the deal? The guy is a nut job; you're better off finding someone else."

"We tried," the agent said bluntly, "Trust me when I say that we tried to find somebody, _anybody_, else that we would think could handle this situation."

Wolfe thought this over in his head. In his opinion, XCom was better off just having Bradford lead. Sure the guy was more ambitious than most and he probably wasn't the best suited for the job. But the guy was at least competent and followed orders. It was accurate calling Andrews a loose cannon. He played fast and loose with military law and basically did whatever he wanted in order to complete whatever objective was assigned him. Wolfe knew that is what the Council saw when Andrews was brought up but the guy was a renegade and was not to be trusted.

…Still…

Humanity was facing an enemy they had no information about whatsoever. Troop movements and numbers, weapon types and capabilities, air power, their leadership structure… it was all a mystery. Despite his arrogance, Andrews was the best man for the job.

Wolfe just hoped that they wouldn't regret this. If Andrews failed… humanity would surely follow. At lot was riding on what was no more than an all in bet.

"Bloody hell, I'll do it. Give me Andrews' last known location."

The agent smiled victoriously, "no need Captain. We're already here."

Seconds later the door Wolfe used to enter the limo was opened and he stepped out in the rainy streets of Brooklyn, New York. Wolfe inhaled sharply. The weather reminded him of his home in London. The damp air rose up the scarred soldier's nostrils before Wolfe sent it back out with a heavy sigh.

He was led towards a rather unimportant looking apartment complex. It looked pretty run down and Wolfe wasn't sure why a man of Andrews' caliber would stay at a place like this.

Surprisingly, the agents leading Wolfe did not direct him to the front door but instead down the side alley. The alley itself was littered with garbage and dumpsters. Wolfe had no doubt that more than a few shady deals were done down here.

Despite the all too familiar feeling of paranoia creeping up on him, Wolfe followed the agents through the alley, around the rear of the complex and finally to a series of stairs that led down to the basement of the building.

"You can find Andrews down there," said the lead agent, "just know that if anything happens, no charges will be brought up against you."

Confused, Wolfe was going to ask the agent what he meant only to turn around to find that both of his escorts were now walking back in towards the limo. Even stranger, Wolfe saw the agents enter the limo and then watched as the limo itself pulled away.

"Well, that's just brilliant."

Deciding to deal with this new problem after he found Andrews, Wolfe zipped up the zipper on his leather jacket, marched down the steps, and was quickly engulfed in darkness.

After several twists and turns, Wolfe had no doubt that he was lost. Every corridor looked the same as the last and the low lighting didn't help but exacerbate it more. Finally when he had enough, Wolfe began to try and make his way back to the entrance.

He stopped suddenly when a man appeared from around another corner ahead of him and lit up a cigarette.

"Hey mate, can you help me out 'ere?"

The man turned to address Wolfe as he blew out a plum of a smoke, "sure thing man, where you headed?"

"Actually I'm looking for somebody; goes by the name of Andrews."

The man chuckled, "Ol' Jack? Yeah, his match is up in a minute or two. I can take you there if you want."

"Match?"

"Yeah, match… fight…. whatever. He's up next and his opponent just might get him this time."

Wolfe followed the man down a few more corridors. The sound of a cheering crowd grew louder and louder with each step taken. Finally Wolfe found himself in a large open room holding no less than several dozens of people all formed around a hastily put together looking ring.

A suited individual that looked shadier than the government agents that picked Wolfe up stepped directly into the center of the ring. A burning cigar was held loosely in his teeth and he was dressed in a suit that colored in an almost laughable green and purple.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming and without further adieu, I give you tonight's main event. In the right corner, standing at six feet seven inches, weighing no less than an indomitable two hundred and eighty pounds, from parts unknown, I give you… Russ Chapmen!"

The crowd went nuts as the contender stepped into the ring and Wolfe was instantly intimidated by the man who looked like a human version of a tank. The guy played to the crow, holding up a pair up bare fists as he paraded around the ring.

"And now, a man who has yet to be defeated, standing at six feet tall, weighing at around a hundred an eighty five pounds, home grown right here in Brooklyn herself, your champion… Jack Andrews!"

At Andrews' announcement the crowd roared even louder, causing the Contender to scowl as the man himself stepped through a door at the opposite end of the room, his entourage following closely behind him.

Andrews marched through the crowd, receiving a few pats on the back and a few wolf whistles from a few of the women in attendance. He reached the ring, stepping through the ropes and held up a single arm in recognition.

Andrews was muscular but by the standards of a track runner instead of a body builder, utilizing speed and maneuverability than overwhelming power. The man was also lightning fast from what Wolfe could remember. His hair however had grown since the last time Wolfe laid on him. What was once a neat buzz cut, was now a shaggy mess of tangled brown hair over dark stubble.

"Hey buddy," said the man who had led Wolfe to the fight, "I got two grand on this fight. You want in?"

Wolfe watched as the two fighters came together and bumped fists before retreating to their respective corners.

"Sure, why not. I'll take Andrews."

The man chuckled darkly, "you're loss. Tonight is the night for Ol' Jack."

"What's that mean?" Wolfe asked confused by the man's tone.

The man glanced around for a moment before leaning in to whisper.

"The fight is fixed. Andrews owes a lot of money to the guy who runs this shindig. He wants to teach that wash out a lesson or two. Russ is going to give that lesson… permanently."

Wolfe nodded in understanding but nevertheless made sure to check his exits, possible bodyguards mixed in the crowd, taking note of the ones not hidden, and moving his sidearm to a position on his belt where it would be easier to draw. He laughed inwardly when he remembered the agent saying that he was pretty much allowed to handle the situation however he wanted with no fear of any repercussions.

The damn agents were expecting this. There was no doubt about that. Maybe they were hoping Andrews would get killed so someone else would lead XCom instead. But Wolfe brushed that paranoid thought away. Although the agents knew that something was going to go down, they probably just made an informed guess. After all this wasn't the best neighborhood.

_But I still have to get Andrews out in one piece._ Wolfe thought as he returned his focus back to the matter at hand.

"I'll still take Andrews," Wolfe replied taking notice of the bulge underneath the man's coat.

The man's smile grew larger but before he could respond the match bell rang out and the fight began.

The two fighters came at each other instantly, Russ throwing several punches at Andrews to get a feel for the Colonel's guard. Andrews however either dodged them completely or simply swatted them aside. Growing agitated Russ moved in closer and was finally able to land a hook across Andrews left flank. The crowd roared louder at this, calling for blood.

"Rip his fucking arm off!"

"Hit him! Hit him!"

"Go for the body!"

Andrews was forced to take a couple of steps back from the sheer power behind Russ' blow. Andrews landed hard against the ropes and before he could get his footing, Russ came at him again, landing two body shots and a haymaker to Andrews' face. Despite the beating, Andrews had a giant grin plastered on his face. It told everybody, Russ especially, that he was simply toying around.

Wolfe however was busy scanning the crowd. He already made out three armed individuals, including his own 'friend' but stopped when he made out another guard. The man was hidden in the shadows, a rifle cradled in his arms, the barrel pointed wherever Andrews moved.

In his mind, Wolfe began to formulate a plot. His first target would no doubt be the gentleman beside him. Next would be the rifleman in the shadows. After that he'd have to play it by ear, trusting Andrews to not get shot in the process.

The fight began going sour for Russ by the end of the third round. No matter how many times he managed to land a shot on Andrews, the more nimble man would not fall. Russ was also growing tired, his attacks becoming scarcer by the second.

Andrews however seemed to having a field day. Despite the blood seeping from a cut above his eye, he looked no worse for wear. He had paced himself so far but was starting to attack more often, draining Russ of his energy more and more.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the third round, Andrews stopped his onslaught of body shots and turned to walk towards his corner. Russ however, with a snarl, threw a punch right at the back of Andrews' head, causing the Colonel to stumble. The crowd threw out several verbal assaults at the obvious low blow but otherwise they were enjoying the drama it would no doubt cause.

Andrews tentatively felt the back of his head and came away with a bit of blood. It took a couple seconds for Wolfe to realize but as Andrews resumed his walk towards his corner, Wolfe saw that the man was looking right at him. Andrews smile and shrugged, putting his fist to chest twice and breaking eye contact.

Wolfe smiled, knowing that the inevitable confrontation was no doubt about to happen. He inconspicuously placed both hands behind his back and firmly gripped his hidden pistol. With him and his escort at the very back of the crowd, there was danger of anyone seeing. And with the loud roar of the crowd, no was able to hear Wolfe arm his pistol.

The fourth round started and both fighters came at each other once again. This time however, Andrews did not attack. Russ was more than happy to oblige Andrews as he let loose with a powerful left hook…

…Only for it miss completely. Andrews swiftly ducked underneath, rising with a mean uppercut, sending Russ' head snapping back. But Andrews didn't let up, sending another fury of shots to Russ' now exposed body.

By the time Andrews ceased his attack, Russ was beaten and bloody, standing not of his own will. With a smirk on his face, Andrews reached out and simply tapped the man on the head. Russ' body succumbed to gravity and he fell flat on his back.

With the roar of the crowd and the dinging of the final bell, Wolfe was able to quickly place a shattering knee shot to the man beside him. Wolfe didn't hesitate in putting the man into a sleeper hold, one arm wrapped around the man's neck while the other snaked its way under the man's armpit. Utilizing his free hand, Wolfe plugged both the man's nose and his mouth.

The man struggled, naturally, but it wasn't long before his movements stopped. Looking back to the rifleman, Wolfe saw the man pull the bolt back on the rifle. Acting on impulse, Wolfe brandished his pistol and fired three shots at the rifleman. All three hit their mark and the offender fell dead.

Andrews however was parading himself around the stage, putting the entire crowd's focus on him. Wolfe used the distraction to silently move around, dispatching another undercover goon before the guy could act.

When the final undercover was neutralized, Wolfe finally got a visual on the owner, the same man who introduced both fighters at the beginning of the match. The man's grin was long gone, replaced now by an expression of sheer frustration. On both his right and left were two armed individuals, both carrying concealed weapons.

Wolfe, hidden amongst the crowd as simply just another patron, began to make his way towards the boss. But before he could make it within fifteen fete, someone yelled out a startled scream. Wolfe looked back and saw that the rifleman's body was just discovered. Looking back to the boss, Wolfe instantly realized that his cover was blown. The boss was now holding a large magnum and pointing it right at Andrews, whose attention was, along with everyone else, on the dead body.

Wolfe didn't hesitate, pulling out his pistol a second time and firing at the boss. The two rounds he fired missed, causing the overweight man to flinch as he pulled the trigger. Luckily the round went wild, missing Andrews completely. Realizing that he'd been shot at Andrews reacted and dove from the elevated ring and into a less exposed position.

The goons flanking the boss's attention was now on Wolfe as they pulled their weapons out. Wolfe aimed and pulled the trigger only to hear a soft click.

"Blast!"

Wolfe instantly dove behind the ring himself as three shots rang out, impacting the spot where he had been moments before.

"Hey brother, fancy meeting you here," said a voice.

Wolfe looked over his shoulder and spotted Andrews, smiling devilishly. Somehow the man was now holding a pistol of his own. Andrews popped up and let loose with a few shots, nailing one of the boss' personal goons.

Wolfe himself quickly reloaded and fired as well, but his aim was off due to the fact the sheer panic had engulfed the crowd. Not wanting to hit an innocent bystander, Wolfe was forced to simply fire over their heads, hopefully suppressing the boss and his last goon.

The opposition however, didn't care for the crowd. They fired with reckless abandon and more than a few members of the crowd went down. Some were killed outright, others took less fatal wounds. Either way, they didn't care, only hoping to get Andrews in the process.

The fire and screaming started to die down as the mob filed out of the room, stepping on anyone and everything in their way. Using the crowd as a visual cover, Andrews and Wolfe quickly joined the mob. Keeping their heads down, the two comrades disappeared in crowd as they filed into the street.

A few police cars were out there to meet them along with another three cops rushing forward on their feet. The officers were already at the mob, pinning down anyone they thought was suspicious and chasing down anyone who tried to run away.

"This way," Andrews instructed, leading Wolfe towards a set of dumpsters.

"We aren't going inside those are we?" Wolfe asked, not a fan of hiding in the garbage.

Andrews chuckled, "of course not, just help me move them."

With the efforts of both men, the dumpsters moved aside easy enough, revealing a hidden alleyway. Andrews and Wolfe wasted no time in rushing down it, the sounds of sirens and shouts slowly fading away.

The two didn't stop running –to what Wolfe thought was a random direction- until they were sure that they were no longer being followed. With their pursuers unknown to their location, Andrews and Wolfe seemed safe, for the moment.

"So Mike, not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why in the hell are you here?" Andrews asked as he began to walk.

"I'm here to get you. I've been instructed to retrieve you for the leadership role at XCom," Wolfe answered back, catching his breath.

Andrews shook his head, "I already said no to the last person who asked me that. Frankly she was a lot better looking than you."

"Of that I have no doubt but the fact remains that Earth itself is a target, and every human being on this little globe is in danger."

Andres chuckled softly, "just like the Britt you are, making things more dramatic than they appear."

Andrews was stunned silent when Wolfe struck out and clipped the back of his head.

"This isn't a joke Jack," Wolfe seethed, "I lost more than one friend in Germany and by the time this is over, I don't doubt that I'll loose a few more. Hell even I might bite the bullet."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, that maybe you don't care anymore. Maybe you don't care because you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar and they canned you for it. Maybe you don't care because Victoria left you."

"Watch it," Andrews said with a dark warning.

"Give yourself something to care for again mate. Something that when you look back on it, you can say you were proud of doing. No more regrets, no more needless death. This time, its all or nothing."

Andrews stopped in his tracks when Wolfe finished his monologue, his head lowered as he deeply considered what Wolfe had to say.

"How is you family doing Mike?"

Wolfe smiled, "they're good Jack. Irving is starting fifth grade soon and Collin is about to start kindergarten."

"And Karen? How is she?"

"She's busy with her new job and taking care of the kids. Besides that, fine. Her cooking is still shite but she's getting better." Wolfe and Andrews shared a laugh at that before Andrews paused once more.

"The difference between you and me Mike is that you have something to fight for. If we lose, you lose your family, your home. Me? What do I lose? A bitch of an ex-wife and a career that despite what I gave, was all for naught. Give me a reason Mike and I will say yes."

Wolfe nodded and reached into his pocket. His hand came up holding twelve photographs.

"Who are they?" Andrews asked.

"These are men and women of Strike Force One. They all died in Germany, only one man made it out alive."

"So why show me?"

"Because Jack, I'm showing something that you've obviously forgotten. The reason you lost your wife and your job wasn't because of your dedication. It was because you stopped fighting for something besides yourself. I'm offering redemption. To those boys we lost trying to get that bastard Kadaf. To your wife. To the United _bloody_ States of America, I don't care. Your motivations, you need to discover that on your own, no one else can do that for you. But if you join, you'll be saving lives. You'll be sparing more mothers and fathers from having to be given a folded flag and empty words of duty and honor. The only thing in your way is you."

Andrews, staring at Wolfe during the British man's entire speech, finally broke eye contact. Without warning, Andrews began to walk again. Wolfe wasn't sure where they were heading but followed him anyway.

It was a long five minutes of walking in silence when Andrews suddenly stopped again.

"Alright, fine, you've made your case. But I got three things I want to say before I agree to do anything."

Wolfe smiled, "sure thing."

"One," Andrews began holding up his index finger, "I've never taken a bribe in my life, I was framed. I just want you to understand that. Two, we do things my way. If I'm going to succeed I'm not going to cow-tow to some old fat guy hundreds of miles away. Not again. The third is quite predictable, I want a pardon. Despite me being innocent, the Court Martial found me guilty. So legally I need a pardon."

Despite himself, Wolfe knew that was coming, "Done."

Andrews chuckled, his posture straightening slightly.

"So when do we head out?" Andrews said with a chuckle.

"To be honest, I haven't a clue. I was just told to get you."

Andrews nodded, that same shit eating grin plastered on his face, "good, because I'm thirsty and there's a bar not too far from here. You game?"

Wolfe smiled, "Mate, I'm going to drink you under the table."

"Ha, well see to that you arrogant fuck. Tonight I'm going to prove to you why Americans are the better drinkers."

The two soldiers marched down the street, their spirits lifted and their heads held high. To Wolfe, he decided that he was going to savor this moment. A moment of blissful ignorance was a welcome addition because he knew that come a month, any illusions humanity had, regarding their own morality and mortality, would be gone… and with that their innocence as well.

_**A/N:  
So with this chapter done for, so goes the prologue chapters as well. Part One starts next and with that the introduction to the character submissions. Well, some. Others you might have to be patient for.  
Oh, and I might not have said this before but this story will be like the game in some areas and completely different in others. Adding a real life element to a game such as XCOM isn't easy in the slightest but I plan to do it justice. Whether or not I succeed is up to all of you.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Part One  
****Total War  
****Chapter One  
****The Beginning**

_Oh, Death was never an enemy of ours!  
We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.  
No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.  
We laughed, knowing that better men would come,  
And greater wars; when each proud fighter brags  
He wars on Death - for lives; not men - for flags.  
-Wilfred Owen, The Next War_

_XCom: Enemy Unknown is owned my Firaxis and 2k Games. I'm just a nerd who enjoys the hell out of it._

There was a pregnant silence that filled the situation room. Dr. Vahlen and Dr. Shen both stared at their host with a mix of skepticism and shock. Bradford returned their stares with unwavering fortitude, patient enough to let the truth of what he had just said sink in.

"You're serious aren't you?" asked Shen.

"As serious as a heart attack," replied Bradford.

Vahlen rubbed the sides of her head as she cleared away any uncertainty, "undeniable proof of extraterrestrial life? This will change everything we though we knew for the last thousand years."

Bradford raised a sympathetic hand, "I understand that this must be very overwhelming to you. But I also want you to know that we are the only force capable of dealing with this."

Bradford met Shen's disbelief and Vahlen's shock. He could understand of course. As a scientist, Vahlen had more of an open mind regarding things of a… pseudo nature. Shen on the other hand was more used to dealing with things that made sense. While he was responsible for most of the advancements in human society, Bradford knew that Shen relied on two plus two equaling four. It was only natural that when someone informed him that it now equaled five that Shen would respond with skepticism.

"Now that you are up to speed, I would suggest getting settled in. In about ten minutes our commanding officer will arrive, Colonel Jonathan Andrews, along with the remainder of our newest conscripts. It would be advisable that you head out now while the base isn't filled with egos and testosterone."

While Shen nodded and made to stand, Vahlen however had one last question.

"What can you tell me about… what was his name… Andrews?" she asked.

Bradford nodded and turned, entering a series of commands into the terminal he was leaning against. A photo of a beautiful woman dressed in a nurse's gown and a man wearing Marine Corps blues appeared on the main monitor seconds later.

"Jonathan Samuel Andrews was born in 1977 to Margret and George Andrews. Margret was a nurse working for the US Red Cross in Vietnam, while George was a grunt on the front lines. They met in '76 and had a child a year later. When Margret died from cancer in 1990, George fell into the world of drugs and alcohol, taking his frustrations out on his son. In 1995, when Jack enlisted into the US Marine Corps, George was killed in what was reported to be as a home invasion. Many theorized that it was actually a result of George owing some bad people a lot of money."

The screen changed once again to Andrews' boot camp induction photo.

"With a startling IQ of 126, Andrews quickly made a name for himself as a master of military tactics, using his brilliance and near photographic memory to put most of his peers to shame. Some even said that he was the reincarnation of General Hannibal, but that's mostly just the work of scuttlebutt. After being fast tracked through Officer's Candidate School, he was put in the Marine Corps Force Recon. He saw action in the final stages of the Gulf War, Operation Iraqi Freedom and even the US invasion of Afghanistan. IN 2007, he was inducted into the US Navy Seals."

The screen changed once again, this time showing the CIA profile on Mamet Kadaf.

"In 2013, Andrews' team and a British SAS squad were sent to Jordan to acquire a known terrorist Mamet Kadaf. This man was responsible for the bombings that occurred in Paris, London, Moscow, and New York. However when the teams arrived they found themselves walking into a trap. Nearly a hundred pounds of explosives was sitting under the complex, and when it went off, it killed most of the Seals and SAS operatives who were there."

The screen changed to a CNN coverage shot of Andrews' court martial.

"Evidence came forward from an unknown source that Andrews was bribed to lure the teams into a trap, allowing Kadaf to escape. He was dishonorably discharged when the source would not come forward making the evidence void."

"So if the evidence itself was omitted, why get rid of him?" asked Vahlen.

"Well, you can't have someone under suspicion of adhering to a dangerous terrorist running operations. So since they couldn't nail him with the deed, they got rid of him."

"This is all fascinating, but how is any of this relevant?" asked Shen, starting to get impatient.

"You asked, I answered but the real reason is that I wanted to show you who is going to be leading this operation. Andrews is a man of unequal brilliance yes but he isn't known for his devotion to normal protocol."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning that he has numerous charges of fraternization, disobeying direct orders from his superiors and basically playing fast and loose with the law."

The door to the situation room opened abruptly, a security guard approaching Bradford and whispering something into his ear.

"Very good thank you," Bradford said dismissing the soldier while turning back to Shen and Vahlen, "Andrews has arrived so I suggest heading to your posts."

Shen, more than happy to do something besides sit around, stood and marched out the door. Vahlen however remained for a moment longer.

"Bradford, excuse me for saying this seeing as we have only just met, but it seems to me that there is more to your distrust of Andrews than you let on," she said in an even voice.

Bradford held her gave, feigning ignorance, "what do you mean doctor?"

"Well, you said yourself that you've been operating as the commander here for the past decade. Andrews, a known renegade, will be only just arriving and assuming the role which I think you believe should be yours."

"Your point doctor?" Bradford said, getting more than a little annoyed.

"There is no point Bradford," Vahlen said with a smile as she exited the room, "I was just making an observation."

Vahlen left the situation room, leaving Bradford alone with his thought.

He would admit, to himself, that he was a little jealous that Andrews was getting a position that should be rightfully his. After all he had dedicated the past ten years of his life to this project while Andrews was doing god knows what, no doubt something illegal.

But it was out of his hands. Bradford was to remain as the lead Intelligence officer and Andrews would be their leader. Bradford however made it a point to promise himself that one slip up from Andrews, if he was even remotely close to compromise this base, Bradford would be there to throw the book at him.

XxxxxX

Andrews and Wolfe stepped off the Skyranger side by side. Instantly, Jack's eyes were dancing back and forth across the hanger, putting every face and detail to memory. Wolfe on the other hand, was doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain that was erupting from his skull. The primary suspect being that he probably had one too many the night before.

After their drunken escapade, Wolfe and Andrews had stumbled back to the Colonel's apartment to seek shelter and food, only to find the elder man's fridge empty and more than a few spots in his roof leaking.

Nothing makes a man sober than having to constantly empty buckets of rain water for nearly four hours straight.

Thankfully, Wolfe did not have to endure Andrews' accommodations for too long. The agents that had picked him up arrived and escorted them both back to the airport where the same Skyranger that Wolfe had ridden to America on was still waiting for them.

Another three hour flight and Wolfe found himself in his present state.

"So this is it?" Andrews asked unimpressed, "this base is supposed to house humanity's last best hope?"

Wolfe snickered, "think of this way Jack," he began, "this place can be the physical interpretation of you."

Andrews smiled, "Oh? How so?"

"Its ratty, run down, and not much to look at. But underneath that there is a certain… should we say aura… that just seems to beckon you to it."

Andrews was silent for a moment before he burst out laughing, "Mike if that is your way of coming on to me, I might need dinner first."

Wolfe shared his colleague's laugh, "Sorry mate, you just ain't my type."

When Jack looked back to his friend, witty remark at the ready, he was cut short at the sight of their welcoming party. In particular, the blonde woman in full armor wearing a seemingly determined expression on her face that Jack was going to assume she was born with. On the woman's right was a ragged older gentleman with graying hair and bushy mustache. On her left was a younger male with blonde hair yet slightly longer than normal regulation, a slime build and most surprisingly an eye patch over his left eye. A soft red line traced down from the man's forehead, over the eye and down towards the middle section of his cheek. As the group drew nearer, Jack could see that the man on the left had more than a few nicks and scratches here and there over his clean shaven jaw.

"No Mike, but she is," Andrews commented as the party reached the two new arrivals.

The woman was the first to speak, "Colonel Andrews… and here I thought I had finally gotten rid of you," the woman said with mock amusement.

"Come now Olivia is that anyway to speak to your old commander?" Andrews replied with an honest grin.

The woman, Olivia, was about to reply when Wolfe wisely intervened.

"Colonel, allow me to introduce you to Captain Jason Kaine and Gunnery Sergeant Lincoln Moriarty," Wolfe said pointing out the younger and elder males, "and I see you already know your executive officer, Major Olivia Becker."

"Oh yes, we go back… a long ways," Andrews said with a grin that told those around him that he was talking in more ways than one.

"It's been a long time since Baghdad Jack," Olivia said sternly, no doubt regretting past decisions.

"And I'm sure you tell that to yourself to help you sleep at night," Jack rebuked before turning to Kaine and Moriarty, "So, what do you two do?"

Moriarty was the first to speak, "I'm here to keep what ever piles of human excrement that you call recruits in line and fit to fight. In the field I command Strike Force Two's Bravo squad."

Kaine was next, "Sir, I'm in charge of the remodeled Strike Force One's Alpha squad," he said seriously before switching gears to a more sarcastic approach, "other than that I usually sit around on my hands, standing by to stand by as they say."

Andrews nodded in understanding before turning back to Wolfe, "I thought Strike One was all but lost with one man surviving?"

Wolfe nodded, "that's right."

"And since I only just got here, who is sending out orders to reassemble Strike One?"

This time Olivia spoke up, "I believe that it was under Bradford's order sir, once he got the list of the new recruits that should be arriving momentarily."

Andrews chuckled heartlessly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Oh, I think I'm going to love it here."

XxxxxX

Sarah Jade hated flying with a passion that burned with such a fury that if made into physical form, it would scorch the planet clean of life. Maybe it had to do with a paranoia about being thousands of feet in the air inside of a giant proverbial coffin.

Either way, the reasoning was lost when you were struggling to keep down what you had for breakfast that morning while simultaneously trying to not embarrass yourself in front of a bunch of strangers. Each of which had no problems with being inside of a contraption that if a single thing went wrong, would send them spiraling to a most grizzly of deaths.

Feeling another wave of nausea coming on, the red haired year old American closed her eyes as tightly as her body would allow in a vain effort to place her mind in a happier less dangerous place.

"Not a fan of flying huh?" said a voice from across from her.

Sarah allowed herself to open a single eye lid and saw a young dark haired man sitting across from her. The man was attractive-_ish_, if you were into that whole _I could kill you with the flick of my wrist_ look. The man was leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees and his hands locked together. A few strands of long dark hair that had escaped his tied back ponytail obscured the right side of face. But from what Sarah could see, the man had bright green eyes, a well trimmed goatee, and a grin plastered on his face. He looked large too, physically outweighing Sarah by an enormous degree. Despite herself, Jade felt more than a little intimidated by this man.

Politely, Sarah nodded, unsure of the response she might get. Surprisingly, the man nodded and laughed as he reclined back in his seat.

"Don't worry, same here. I hate flying. The way I see it, if god wanted humans to fly he would have given us wings."

Sarah was about to reply when an even bigger man lumbered into the seat next to him. The phrase built like a tank didn't even come close to describing how massive this guy was. In Sarah's opinion he was built more like one of flying fortresses the air force used to fly back in World War Two. The guy had short black hair, with a bit of grey around the side, a clean shaven jaw line, dark brown eyes and a seemingly bored expression etched on his mug.

"Can you believe this shit?" the new arrival said as he began to complain, "no matter where you go you can't escape those goddamn peanuts. I mean seriously, if _I_ cant open them how can anyone else be expected to?"

"Come now Jackie," the slimmer male said condescendingly, "think of it as a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"A sign that maybe you should stop eating."

"Oh, _ha ha_. You know despite the fact that you know I could pummel you into dust you sure act like you're hot shit."

The slimmer man scoffed dismissively, "You know, that older brother bully routine died years ago. Or do I have to remind you that I know how to punch back?" he said with a grin.

Jack chuckled menacingly, "that sounds like a challenge Marcus."

Before things could escalate further, a softer yet sterner feminine voice from two seats down the aisle rang out.

"Both of you shut it! I'm trying to sleep. Need I remind you both of who would kick who's ass?"

Both men quickly found a sudden interest in floor. After a few seconds of quiet Sarah felt someone take the open seat next to hers. Looking over, Sarah saw a petite young woman with shoulder length raven hair glare at the two men across from her with an almost scolding like expression.

"Sorry if these two knuckle draggers annoyed you. Marcus and Jack have always been lacking something in those round things resting on their shoulders. Sometimes it takes a little dose of reality to bring them back to earth."

Sarah shook her head, wincing at the shudder from another bout of turbulence, "its no problem."

"Where's Adam?" asked Marcus.

"Unlike me, our brother somehow manages to sleep between your bickering," the woman said before turning back to Sarah, "Oh, and I'm Bella, Bella Ryder."

"Sarah Jade," Sarah said, shaking Bella's outstretched hand, "Are you guys related."

Bella adopted a look of regret as she spoke, "unfortunately and fortunately yes. Before you sits Marcus and Jack Ryder. Adam is the lucky one sleeping three seats down."

"So are you a grunt, grease monkey or egg head?" asked Marcus.

Confused, Sarah just replied honestly, "I'm a soldier so… grunt."

Sarah was suddenly very alarmed with the wolfish grins that appeared on both men's faces. Even worse was the way Jack began to lick his lips at her.

"Oh no, sorry boys, this ones off limits," Bella ordered, coming to Sarah's aid. Shockingly, both men looked suddenly defeated as their interest was lost, "Sometimes I wonder if I should have been born the man and theses two the girls. You would never guess other wise."

Before the conversation could continue, the entire craft shook. To Sarah it felt like every fear she had was just confirmed as she tightened her grip around her safety harness, something that did not go by Bella unnoticed.

"Fear of flying?" Sarah nodded. "Well, don't worry. Statistically, flying is the safest way to travel. Actually it is a proven fact that more people die driving than they do flying."

"I know," Sarah answered, "It's just… I really hate flying."

Bella smiled, "well then, we just need to keep you distracted."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Jack and Marcus suddenly look very interested in their conversation. Bella leaned in to whisper.

"What ever you do, try not to imagine those two in their underwear."

Despite the warning, that was all Sarah could see in her mind now. She spent the next half hour of the flight trying to get rid of that image and didn't succeed until they landed. Oddly, she realized that her nausea had disappeared, the connection between the two not going by unnoticed.

XxxxxX

Manny Garcia stood in the barracks by himself rooted to the same spot that he has been at for the past hour. Before him was a wall. But this was no ordinary wall. This was, in Manny's opinion, the most important feature to the base.

Memorial Wall.

The pictures of the fourteen men and women of Strike Force One stared back at him, boring through his very soul. Underneath them, set on a simple desk, were fourteen filled shot glasses, each arranged directly underneath the picture that belong to them.

Manny himself was holding the fifteenth, unwilling or unable to bring it to his lips. His hand trembled, as if he were standing before fourteen judges, each one crying out for justice. As quickly as the fear crawled up his spin, Manny shook it away and replaced it with anger. Anger at who? He wasn't sure.

"_Vigilo Confido_," he uttered before knocking back his drink and setting the shot glass upside down along side the others.

He stepped back from the wall, putting some distance between him and the source of his sudden guilt. Bogdanov, Arnold, and Hayashi… all three of their deaths were directly on him. The other members of Alpha and Charlie were also a result from him.

That was what he told himself anyway. He tried to listen to the more logical part of his mind when it said that all those that died were soldiers and that's what soldiers did. They killed and they died. But what wreaked havoc on Manny's conscious was what had they died for? For scarce intel on an alien invader that they still had no idea about.

"Sir?" a voice said from behind him.

Manny turned around and saw a tall young man standing before him. The man was obviously a new recruit, judging from the fact that he was not wearing the XCom fatigues yet. Mainly because he wasn't issued them yet. He did, however, have a bulky duffle bag draped over his shoulder. The name tag on the uniform read: Hackett. He was a tall man, extreamly pale, around six feet five inches with sandy blonde hair, blue green eyes, and a small scar near his eye.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Uh… hopefully yes you can. My name is Allen Hackett and I was wondering-"

"Allen! Where the hell did you run of to?"

Manny and his new acquaintance turned to see a motley group of individuals filling into the barracks. The man who interrupted Allen strode forward, a cocky grin plastered on his face. This one was much shorter than his friend, with short black hair, dark eyes, and an almost yellow hue skin tone.

"There you are, did you find our room yet?" the man said as a young woman strode up beside him. The woman was beautiful and if Manny had been a younger version of himself he would have tried to make a pass at her. She had a lithe body with decent curves and long black hair and stunning brown eyes.

Manny saw Allen visually turn red at the sight of the woman but turned back to his friend before continuing.

"Actually I was just about to find out," Allen said as he turned back to Manny.

But Manny was faster on the trigger, "Dorms are to your right and then to the left. The bunk sheet should be up already."

Allen nodded his thanks and departed with his two friends in tow. Manny himself turned back to wall and resumed his staring contest. With everyone beginning to arrive and his privacy gone, Manny turned on his heel and began to walk away. He didn't make it far before he ran into a very familiar face.

"Wolfe," he greeted, "how was America?"

Michael Wolfe smiled and extended his hand in greeting, "Wet and cold."

Manny chuckled, "I can imagine. I was watching the weather channel earlier and can you believe that they're calling for snow in Florida? Of all places…"

Wolfe nodded, "Yes it is odd, maybe it has something to do with our newest guests?"

The words came out before Michael could retract them, and did not ignore the look of anger that washed over Manny's face just then.

"Sorry mate, I didn't mean-"

"-It's fine." Manny interrupted.

"Look if you want to talk about it…"

"There's nothing to talk about. My entire team died on that botched mission. Case closed. End of story."

Wolfe could only shake his head, "did you hear that Bradford wants to put Strike One back together?"

Manny scoffed, "Yeah I heard. I also heard our C.O. is finally here so we can finally get started doing what it is we're here to do."

Wolfe placed a friendly hand upon Manny's shoulder, "Look, I understand how you're feeling right now. Believe me, I know. But we'll make their deaths mean something."

Manny brushed the gesture away, "I appreciate what you're trying to do Mike, but I don't want to hear it. I just want to get to work."

Wolfe back off then, maintaining a more professional approach, "Very well then. There will be a revised version of the duty roster being posted in an hour. Until then every one is to assemble in the situation room fro a briefing."

Manny looked stunned, "The situation room? But no one but Bradford goes in there."

Wolfe smiled, "Bradford isn't in charge anymore."

XxxxxX

One by one, the entirety of the XCom base's personnel filed into the situation room. The room itself was already small but trying to get nearly seventy five operatives, pilots, engineers and scientists into it resulted in quite the clutter.

So to change things up, Andrews ordered everyone to the hanger. With everyone's full attention on the five leaders before them, the briefing was finally underway.

Wolfe watch nervously as Andrews walked up to the elevated podium. Before him was the crowd that he needed to convince that he was the best man for the job. That he was the one to lead them to victory.

"Firstly," Andrews began, "I want to take a moment to thank every one for being here. Whether it was by your choice, or not, it makes little difference right now. Because, right now you have just became humanity's shield. An enemy we know nothing about is on our doorstep and they aren't here to sell us Girl Scout cookies."

"Before this, you were American, Canadian, German, French, English, Australian, Chinese, or Russian. You were either Catholic, Jewish, Muslim or Atheist. You were mercenaries, former Special Forces, currently serving or retired. I'm here to tell you now that that means precisely… dick."

"As of this moment, you are nothing. Your experience clock has just been reset to zero. It doesn't matter how many bad guys you've put down over the years, or how may successful operations you were a part of. It doesn't matter because you have faced nothing like this before. And truth be told neither have I."

"But what does it say that we stand here now? What does it say about us that we are willing to enter the void of the unknown and fight against the encompassing darkness that threatens to swallow our little world whole. Before man had killed man. Now we are united under a common goal: to ensure the survival of the human race. No cause has ever been greater, no cause has ever been more righteous. Whoever these creatures are they have already made their first mistake. With their opening shots they have made us into something we have forgotten we already were… a species."

"Don't fight for fortune, because you won't get any. Don't fight for your leaders because they don't care. Don't fight for glory because it won't matter in the end anyway. If we lose, it'll be your homes these invaders will burn. It'll be your families they'll kill. It'll be your neighborhoods they wipe away. Remember that fact when doubt descends. You fight for continuity of our species boys and girls. And if this is our time to die it is our time. But if it is our end… I say we make it an end that these bastards will never forget."

"So remember, you are human, and you are the last hop any of us have of securing a future for not just ourselves, but for every man, woman and child on this planet. These are the stakes."

As far as speeches go, it wasn't the best in human history. In fact, knowing Andrews, most of it was probably ripped off from somewhere. But it had the intended effect. It reminded them of what they were all there for. They weren't there to fuel the agenda of some powerful politician, or to seize up some dwindling resource. They were there because they needed to be. Nothing more, nothing less. The aliens had struck first. Now it was humanity's turn.

_**A/N:  
Sorry for the lack of updates lately, but I recently got a promotion at work (yay) and its been messing with my schedule. Seriously when I finally get home now, the first thing on my mind is sleep. And when you try to balance that with a woman that despite how much you care for can drive you up the goddamn wall (don't tell her I said that) plus annoying friends who want to do stupid things like go out and have fun (yeah right) my free time suddenly can get very limited. Nevertheless I will try to aim for either a weekly updates or bi-weekly. But no promises.  
Oh, before I forget, if any of you out there are Diablo fans, check out Andrigno's fic Hell's Bane. So far, despite two chapters, its looking very promising. So stop in and check it out.  
So that it for me and this chapter, any problems with the submitted ones so far? Let me know.**_


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